The Power Increases...
by Janazuul
Summary: Chapter 3 is up!! Frodo and Sam find themselves confronted with the straining task of climbing through the Emyn Muil when night falls and Frodo attempts to resist the ring.
1. Sam

Summary: Frodo and Sam find themselves confronted with the straining task of climbing through the Emyn Muil when night falls and Frodo attempts to resist the ring.  
  
It is clear that none of the characters belong to me, very unfortunately though, still I am thankful to good old Tolkien for creating the wonderful world of middle earth and open the opportunity to jump at his Hobbits, Elves, Dwarfs and men of Numenor and just put them into stories of my own. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!  
  
Okay, here we go, I hope you enjoy this short one. It will contain three chapters and basically give you one tiny, little insight into three characters of LotR. One of those that I cherish most, my good old Sam, Frodo and yesssesssesssss, alsssssooooo Gollum....*lol* I guess you never thought Gollum might be capable of a decent thought. Well, read on and you will find out......and please be nice and review....PLEASE!!  
  
The Power Increases...  
  
- 1 - Sam  
  
The last few rays of dire light slowly turned into darkness while Sam and Frodo cowered under a ledge, trying to stay as close to each other as possible and desperately trying to keep the darkness from entering their hearts as well.  
  
Sam rubbed his paining feet and absent-minded he gazed at Frodos face as the darkness slowly enframed and devour all his features. His face was covered with dirt and his cheeks seemed cavernous. While the darkness increased, Sam had the feeling to recognize a certain expression on the face of his master. An expression of despair and it seemed to him as if Frodo was struggling with himself again. Struggling with himself to continue his way, not to abandon his task and to fight the ever increasing control that the ring had over him.  
  
Sam did not really know, what was going on inside his master, but he knew that he had come along to help Frodo with all the power and love that was inherent to him. That was exactly what he was going to do. No one would stand between Sam Gamschee and his task.  
  
"Mister Frodo?" he whispered. While Frodos face finally disappeared, it seemed a short moment yet, to be lit by an inner glow.  
  
Sam had observed this already once before, when Frodo had been wounded so terribly at the Amon Sûl, that weather top, right after he had been rescued by Elrond the half-elven. Frodos entire arm had been slightly translucent and ice cold. Sam was certain, he had seen that very shimmer back then on Frodos arm.  
  
This wound had done something to Frodo, and Sam couldn't get rid of the feeling that Frodo had changed forever. In this one moment when the terrible weapon of the Nazgul had touched Frodo, something had been taken from him, but Sam knew at the same time that something had also been given to Frodo in exchange. Sam was not certain however, what had been given to Frodo and whether one Hobbit alone would be able to live with this terrible bargain.  
  
Ashamed Sam looked at the spot where his feet were supposed to be. His eyes stared into the impenetrable darkness, that had now befallen the Emyn Muil. It was his fault that the Nazgul had been able to injure Frodo. He should have watched out better, ought to have paid more attention to Frodo.  
  
Deep inside though, Sam knew that it had not been his fault, but imagining that he could possibly have taken better care helped him to be even more attentive now. Sam couldn't bear the thought that something could happen to Frodo. When the cave troll had nearly killed Frodo in the never-ending darkness of Moria, Sam had been ready to follow Frodo. The despair had been so great that within these few minutes, in which he thought Frodo had been killed, he had felt something break inside him. Then, when he saw that Frodo moved, bestirred himself under pains and showed the coat of mail, he had been filled with such relief that he thought he would immediately melt into tears.  
  
Sam still gazed into the impenetrable darkness, finally he pulled himself out of his memories, looked at Frodo again and whispered "Mister Frodo!" His hand searched for Frodo's, found it and took it between his own hands. It was Frodos left hand and it felt cold and powerless. "Mister Frodo?" This time Sams whispering sounded more concerned, for not the slightest reaction came from Frodo.  
  
"Sam." A rough and weak voice answered finally. Sams heart jumped at that and he swallowed hard in order not to voice a loud gasp at the change in Frodos voice. He was worried about his master. In the last flare of light, Frodos eyes had looked very strange, so absent, just like they had at the ford when they had driven the horses of the black riders into the flood and Frodo had fallen off Glorfindels horse. He had just been lying on the ground next to the white steed, his eyes torn open without perceiving anything however.  
  
This strange shimmer had lain on his eyes, like a grey veil, and he had panted for air, just as if he was going to suffocate. Scarcely had the flood diminished, when Sam had raced through the river and had reached Frodo first. There was nothing he could have done then and the mere imagination of being so helpless still tormented Sams soul. He had only been able to hold Frodos hands. Soon after Sam, Aragorn and Glorfindel had reached them and carried Frodo away.  
  
Sam would never forget this look in Frodos eyes and he shuddered, thinking about Frodo, being lost somewhere in the depths of this veil.  
  
"Erm.....mister Frodo, I am not really thirsty, you know and .... well, I am not that much tired either, so I though, Sam I thought, why don't you give all the water to mister Frodo since we will certainly find new water soon." Sam put all his persuasive power into his voice. Somehow it seemed as if he did not only want to deceive Frodo but himself as well, "and then let Mr. Frodo sleep a little." he continued. "I am not tired ...., really mister Frodo, so you really ought to sleep a little. I will keep watch."  
  
Sam fondled encouragingly over Frodos hand and noticed that some strength returned into it when Frodo pressed his hand in return. He did not mention though that he wanted to stay awake, because he had the feeling that Gollum was skulking after them.  
  
TBC......  
  
Wait for chapter two and three, hopefully they will follow within a few days or weeks, it won't take too long though. Keep on checking and reviewing....lol. 


	2. Frodo

Okay, second chapter is here, it's basically dealing with the same time as in the first chapter but this time from a different point of view. Just dive into it and you shall be enlightened...lol.  
  
Thanks to tiggivon for reading and reviewing I am also writing an epic slash you might wanne check it out. Here we go.....  
  
- 2 - Frodo  
  
Within the last few hours in which Frodo and Sam had been climbing trough the cliffs of the Emyn Muil, Frodo had felt this strange feeling of emptiness again. An emptiness, which had secretively seized power over heart since they had left the fellowship at the Amon Hen.  
  
He could still behold Boromirs face before his very eyes, marked by pure hatred, feel Boromirs weight on his body when he had pulled him down and fallen on Frodo in order to snatch the ring from him.  
  
Boromir had never made a secret about it that he would rather see the ring differently used, than sending it with the fellowship, into Mordor, which he believed to be the inevitable downfall for their task. Yet Frodo had not been aware, as to how far Boromir had not only truly been against the decision of the council, as to sending the only weapon against Mordor out of reach of Gondor, but also and most of all, as to the bearer of the ring being Frodo, a Hobbit from the Shire. The sudden change of Boromir had been terrible, when he had grabbed him, pulled him down and by force tried to take the ring on the Amon Hen.  
  
Frodo knew however, that Boromir had not been he himself, for he sensed that the same power, which had changed Boromir so terribly, worked on himself just as steadily. Sometimes the ring ensnared him with illusions, pretending that he would be free of all this, if he simply decided to take the ring and claim it for himself. He only needed to say, that the ring now belonged to him and would be free. Or if he brought the ring to Sauron, he would be free and everything would as it was before the dreadful ring came into his life.  
  
He could just return to the Shire, with Merry, Pippin and good old Sam.  
  
Frodo was struggling within himself. He told himself that he was no good for this task that the counsel's discordance had imposed on him and that he was just too weak. He knew that only little strength lay between him and giving in, to these illusions. Only if he recalled Gandalfs words, Frodo was able to compose himself a little again.  
  
Whenever the ring tightened it's grip around Frodos mind and it appeared to him that it would be so much better if he simply decided for one or the other option, he tried to think of Gandalf and this one statement came into his mind over and over again. Gandalf had said that Frodo was meant to bring the ring into Mordor, just as much as Bilbo had been meant to find the ring underneath the Misty Mountains. Gandalf had considered this an encouraging thought, but Frodo himself was not all that sure, though thinking about Gandalfs words helped him gather all remaining strength and courage again.  
  
Since Gandalf however had fallen into the terrible darkness of Moria, at the bridge of Khazad-dûm, he had let go of almost all hope and it took him increasingly more effort to drain any comfort from Gandalfs words. He had almost entirely given up himself when the fellowship had reached Lothlorien and met Galadriel, the Lady of the woods. When they were brought before her, she had spoken directly to Frodo, however without moving her lips. Her voice had been directly inside Frodos head, dark and bright at the same time, threateningly and yet protective.  
  
She had offered him a choice, had shown him, what he most eagerly desired. He had seen himself happily and satisfied in the Shire. Merry, Pippin, Samwise and Bilbo at his sides, everything was good and there was just no ring. Neither a fiery eye pursuing him, observing him and staring on the very base of his soul. Everything was good.  
  
The only thing he had to do, was to pass on the ring. He had seen himself, placing the ring into Galadriels hands and Galadriel bending down and affectionately pacing a kiss on his head.  
  
Then, he had really offered her the ring, later, after having looked into Galadriels mirror. He had really wanted to put the ring into her hands and freely abandon his task. She was so great, above all measures beautiful and powerful, but she had shown him what would happen if she took the ring from Frodo.  
  
She had passed her test by refusing her desire to take the ring, but Frodo still had to pass his own yet. Since Lothlorien Frodo had felt the growing urge to escape the burden of the ring which predestination had imposed on him.  
  
He suffered and Gandalf was not there in order to lead him with his immense knowledge. Gandalf was lost, he would never again be a patient taskmaster and friend for Frodo. He had fallen into a darkness which more and more engulfed Frodos heart.  
  
None was there to lead him. Even Galadriel the powerful ... the immeasurably powerful Galadriel did not seem to be a match for the ring. She had been able to resist it, just yet, but had she taken the ring, she would have fallen for it eventually, and her deeds would have reversed into immense sorrow.  
  
If even Galadriel was not capable to bearing the ring, how was he supposed to avoid being devoured by the power of that dreadful ring. His body was so much smaller and his understanding of all this ring business was hardly to be mentioned at all. How was he ever supposed to control the ring with the little courage, that he was yet able to raise. Control a ring that would play tricks on him day by day by day, draining Frodos will entirely and becoming more and more of a burden around his neck.  
  
How should he? How could he even raise the strength necessary?  
  
There was just no future for him, there would be no more way back for him. He would only be able to fulfill this task if he abandoned himself entirely and accepted that the imagines which the ring showed lay not in it's power to fulfill.  
  
Whatever the ring showed, was nothing but an illusion and the ring was not truly in the position to fulfill these illusions.  
  
The ring could not return Frodos inviolacy to him. Nothing that had happened could again be undone, not the blade, Frodo had felt above his heart, not this icy cold that forcefully grasped him, whenever there was a Nazgul only at a distant. Neither the grey veil could be undone, which at times covered his vision and seemed to drag him into another world. Nothing of all this could ever be made undone again.  
  
Frodo had to admit, that there was now way out. It was predetermined. There was just no way out, at least not for him.  
  
He had to carry the ring eastwards and into Mordor and attempt to throw it in the Mountain of Doom. All would become worse if he abandoned his task now, and after all....... was it not better this way?  
  
A decision ascended his gloomy mind filling him with a fragile but firm determination.  
  
He would try to bring the ring through this terrible land and he would try to throw it in the Mountain of Doom, even though he had no hope to ever succeed. It was all senseless anyway.  
  
"Mister Frodo?" Something seemed to pull Frodo from his thoughts - was there something? No.  
  
Frodo realized that the attempt to carry the ring into Mordor would cost his life and this conviction soothed him somehow and he managed to gather what courage was left. Some strength returned into his body. As if from a far distance he heard a voice penetrating his thoughts, trying to dislodge the darkness, which had not only seized the Emyn Muil but his heart.  
  
This awareness would help him to resist the ring. He would not claim the ring, for the ring could not give what he most desired from it. It was a fraud, the ring was a fraud and could not unhurt Frodo. The Ring had to be destroyed.  
  
"Mister Frodo!"  
  
Frodo wondered to whom this voice might belong. The voice conveyed a feeling of love and Frodo started feeling not as completely lost, while he tried to comprehend the meaning of the words the voice had uttered.  
  
"Mister Frodo?" Again this voice. It sounded somewhat anxious.  
  
Of course, it was Sam. Slowly Frodo became conscious of his environment again, he felt his hurting feet again, the immeasurable weight of the ring around his neck and the terrible thirst.  
  
Frodo tried to gather some spittle in order to speak. "Sam." he finally uttered and his voice sounded unusually rough and strange. Frodo remembered that they had hardly spoken today. Or had they remained silent since yesterday? Frodo could not tell.  
  
Sam held Frodos left hand with his own and gently stroke over it, thus as if to calm Frodo, as if he knew which thoughts troubled him. Frodo who didn't want Sam to be worried, pressed his hand and was glad not to be alone.  
  
"Erm.....mister. Frodo, I am not really thirsty, you know and .... well, I am not that much tired either, so I though, Sam I thought, why don't you give all the water to mister Frodo since we will certainly find new water soon." Sam voice sounded encouraging and drew Frodos attention again to their physical needs. "and then let mister Frodo sleep a little." he continued. "I am not tired,.... really mister Frodo, so you really ought to sleep a little. I will keep watch."  
  
Frodo had not thought about, whether the water was to last or whether they still had Lembas and any other food supply, at all.  
  
Sam would be right, they would find new water before they ever left the Emyn Muil. There had to be water, right? Gratefully he took a sip from the bottle, which Sam placed into his the left hand. Some water was still in the bottle when Frodo returned it to Sam.  
  
"I am really quite tired Sam," Frodo felt the strain of climbing the Emyn Muil with every bit of his body, "but wake me in two hours, so you can also sleep."  
  
Frodo leaned back, in order to lean himself against the rock, but Sam forestalled him, by pulling him down and gently bedding Frodos head on his lap.  
  
Frodo let it happen, and while Sam protectively placed one arm over Frodos chest, Frodo searched for Sams hand, held it, as if it was the only light in this infinite darkness and fell asleep.  
  
TBC.....  
  
This is it for now, the third chapter will be all about good old Gollum, yeah baby, yeah!! Just gimme a few days or a week and it will be posted.  
  
As always with Janazuul please be nice and review.... :) 


	3. Gollum

Okay, it took me a little longer to get this one online, I was just a little busy, you know like parents visiting me, then me visiting them vise versa...etc. Yet, after all I managed to eventually get it out to you.   
  
Unfortunately this is the end. *hihi didn't Bilbo say something like this on his bithdayparty....and afterwards he disappeared with a wooooooshhhhhhh, did he not?? Well I won't, I shall still be here for a little while longer....lol*   
  
This is the last chapter, this story was just a tiny little one and I am happy I managed to keep it this short. Even that I finished it..... yippie!!  
  
Thanx to tiggivon, for being so kind as to review again...THANK YOUUUUU, I hope you will like this one as much.  
Also thanx to Blue Jedi Hobbit 009 for reviewing and I will try my best to keep on writing "my" way.  
  
Here we go......  
  
- 3 - Gollum  
  
Gollum crept forwards further, pushing his fingers into the furrows of the fissured wall in order not to slip down and silently he eavesdropped the sounds of the Emyn Muil. He knew that they were not far, he could taste their smell in the air, he even thought he could hear their furry little Hobbit feet tiptoe in between the whispering wind. They were very close.   
  
The last rays of the day would pass any moment now and an absolute darkness would cover the Emyn Muil but finally he had found them. He had been following them already since Moria, lumbering after them, trying to hide his footstep in the sounds of their steps, once walking quickly, once slowly. Sometimes his craving for the ring which was so close now, would make him tremble on the brink of insanity and sometimes again he would calculate the setting of his footsteps carefully in order not to be discovered.   
  
His ring would belong to him again, he would get these little hobbitses, would crush them, squeeze them, these dirty little thieves, especially this Baggins, that carried his treasure now, his precious. He hated Baggins, this little thief. Yes a thief it was, Baggins had stolen his birthday present, had robbed him of the precious.   
  
Very close, yes very close my precious, are you not. We feel you...you are not far. With half squinting eyes Gollum looked down the overhang to which he clung to. They had come this way. He was able to perceive their scent on the rock. Softly he absorbed the air and uttered a half suffocated goll-um to himself.  
Very close you are, yesssseseses, very close......   
  
Now,.....shhhht......what was that, there had been a sound, nearby, as if someone moved his feet. Gollum froze, his muscles strained, a greenish glint appeared in his eyes and made him seem yet more malicious.   
  
Gollum pressed himself further against the stone of the overhang he had just climbed down half way, he listened tensely. They were here, he could feel the precious. Following an intuition Gollum slowly moved further down the overhang, just far enough to carefully glimpse at was to be found underneath. Darkness had swallowed the Emyn Muil with an incredible suddeness now and covered all with a blanket of blackness. Just before Gollums eyes could fully adjust to the blackness he heard a whipered voice.  
  
"Mister Frodo?"   
  
There they were, these mean little hobbitses, trying to hide from him, wanting to escape, believing to escape, do they my precious....?  
  
No they won't, he would crush them, utterly destroy them, squeeze them to death. Yes, yes, my precious we will get you back from these little thieves .   
  
There was yet much more strength in Gollums emaciated body than it appeared to be, and somewhat effortless Gollum clung to the rock with his head down.There was not the slightest sight of him in the darkness, but his eyes, which had adapted to the darkness of the misty mountains within the five hunded years in which the ring had poisened his mind, could quite clearly make out the outlines of two small figures which cowered at the back undrneath the overhang. They were the two hobbits he had followed from the Amon Hen where they had separated from the fellowship.   
  
Their outlines seemed to blur right underneath their heads and Gollum remembered the coats which the nasty elves must have given to them in Lothlorien. Even in the darkness they had not lost any of their protective effect.   
  
These coats previously had played tricks on Gollum when he had followed the fellowship on the Anduin, after they had left Lothlorien. Often the boats had seemed empty because the elven coats had confused his senses. Yet now in the Emyn Muil, the coats were not able to play any more tricks on him, for they were not able to deceive his nose.   
  
"Mister Frodo!" Came from the whispering voice again, it was not the ring bearer speaking, but the other hobbit. Gollum did not know the name of that hobbit to the left, next to Baggins, the ring bearer.  
  
The one hobbit moved and seemed to grasp for the other, searching for his hand. When he had found it, he took it between his own hands and seemed to stroke it. Gollum turned his head a little, so he could see better. How should he take them by surprise?   
  
His desire to hold the ring, his precious, in his own hands again, seemed to increase above all measures. Yet something in the depth of his very soul seemed to keep him from snatching the ring in one explosive movement fom that Baggins for he knew exactely where the ring bearer bore the ring. The ring called him, like a distant echo he could hear a pressing whisper from the ring. He sensed how his right hand wanted to let go of the rock in order to grasp the ring, altough it was out of his reach.   
  
However, deep inside him, buried under mean and cruel thoughts, something kept him from setting loose his violence. Gollums hands remained on the rock while he tried to find the reason for his hesitation. There was no danger, he was at absolute advantage, they would hardly realize what happened to them, he would have the ring in no time and once he had his precious back, it would be too late for them and he would crush them, yesssseses he would crush them with "his" precioussss.   
  
Yet something still held him back, something that only rarely ever drifted so closely at Gollums surface as that he noted it, or that he was even able to grab hold of it, in order to comprehend it's meaning. As he observed the two hobbits more closely, the ring's whispering softened, disappeared into a far distance and was replaced by something that Gollum hardly recognized as part of himself anymore. Even now he did not know what it was that he perceived just then, only that it kept him from grabbing his precious from the hobbits and attempt to kill them both.   
  
Something strange filled what yet remained of his heart, and an icy hand grabbed hold of Gollums stomach leaving a feeling somewhat emptier, than tracing it back to the deficiency of nourishment. The green glint disappeared from his eyes, as he observed the ring bearer and some memory crept into his thoughts and led him into an a time, long forgotten ....   
  
----  
  
The mean golden disk at the sky merciless burned down on Smeagol, just as if it wanted to point out all the evilness and darkness that indwelled him. Make visible for everyone, what he had done.   
Regretfully he remembered how he had placed his hands around Deagols throat. Deagol, who had been his best friend and he had just slowly but without remorse strangulated him, had kept him in a best friend's stranglehold until all life had left his body.   
  
How much time had passed since then??   
  
Smeagol couldn't remember, it seemed terribly long to him. So much time had passed since then and he was all alone now, always on the run from the cruel yellow disk, which unceasingly pursued him, in order to expose his turpitudes to everyone.   
He had concealed himself not only from that yellow disk for a long time, but also from encounters with travelers, observing them from within dark shadows and always thoughtful not to be seen himself.   
  
----  
  
Something about this Baggins, the way he just sat there, pressed against the wall, weak and powerless like an emptied jar, echoed in Gollum and touched something deep inside, whose existence seemed long forgotten.   
  
Due to his better perception which had been unnaturally increased by the ring, Gollum realized what was going on inside Baggins, realized that Baggins was fighting the power of his precious and this awareness finally arouse the last little bit of Smeagol from some forgotten corner of Gollums dastard existence and pulled it towards the surface of what he had become. The grim expression disappeared from Gollums face and an unusual softness covered his haggard features.   
  
Gollum pulled back from the edge of the overhang, until he was hardly able to glimpse at the two hobbits and further observed the ring bearer.   
  
----  
  
"Smeagol, come let us go fishing!".......   
  
"What is that in your hands?"......   
  
"I have already given you more for a birthday gift than I actually could afford.".....  
  
"You don't want to give it to me?.....don't want to give it to us?....."   
  
A surprised face, shocked eyes, growing larger and ever larger. The eyes turning into bloody pools of red, strangling hands.   
Deagol dead.....   
Long years, powerful years of slinking, stealing and eavesdropping.   
Mean years.   
Desolate years and inner quarrel.   
  
"I don't want in anymore, I wished I had never gotten it."   
  
"But we wants it...yessss, we wants it, it is our precioussss."   
  
Dirty fingers that gently stroke the ring, large flat eyes that are reflected in a ever expanding ring of gold.   
  
"It is us and it is our precioussss."   
  
"No, that ain't me!" A shocked, squinting reflection.   
  
"Yessss, it is ussss, is it not, my precioussss?"   
  
"NO!"   
  
"Goll-um, our precioussss, our own, our precioussss, our own!"......   
  
"No! No, no, no,......no?"   
  
"Our own....our precioussss!"   
  
"My own......my precious? Our precioussss?"   
  
"Yesssseses!"   
  
----  
  
"Mister Frodo?"   
  
Gollum slipped back into reality and perceived the two hobbitses once again, the unknown hobbit had leant forward and seemed concerned about the maintained silence of the ring bearer.  
  
Why should he not simply exploit the weakness and inner battle of the ring bearer and get his precious back now? Again the green glint appeared in Gollums eyes and his muscles strained, ready to seize any offering possibility to attack the ring bearer.   
"Sam." The voice of the ring bearer sounded rough and weak. Something moved deep inside Gollum and the green glint disappeared once more.   
  
----  
  
"No we don't want to kill it!"  
  
"Yet we wants it, it stole our precioussss, got it and did not give it to ussss. It is a thief, we wants it dead. It is a Bagginsssss. We hate Bagginssssessss.....'   
  
"No, we....Smeagol doesn't want to kill him, Smeagol doesn't want to. It is like Smeagol."  
  
"No, it is weak and small and it is a thief, a common thief, it deserves death."   
  
"It is like Smeagol was, how we were, it....."  
  
"...must die...."   
  
"No, Smeagol doesn't want the little hobbitses to be killed, they are alike ....like Smeagol."  
  
"They have our precioussss, our own, they deserve death, they......"  
  
"No. Don't..... Smeagol only wants to get his precioussss back, but Smeagol won't kill little hobbitses, no, not the poor, weak hobbit."  
  
"Yet, it knows that it is ours, our precioussss, our own. Our precioussss.....it has to give it back, but it doeseses not. It stole it from us, it must die!!!"  
  
----  
  
Just like from a far distance something seemed to attract Gollums attention ....   
"Know you, mister Frodo............"   
  
----  
  
"However they are two, Smeagol cannot kill both....and Smeagol doesn't want to kill the poor hobbitses!"  
  
"They are weak...we could kill them. We are fast, yesssseseses, yet we are still fast and strong, we could choose the weakened one, bite through his throat and take the precioussss. Yesssseses we could do that, could we not precioussss?"  
  
"But the other is not weak he will grab us, will hurt us. Will not let us take it. We couldn't take it now. Smeagol doesn't want to take it now."   
  
"But we wants it, goll-um,..... we wants it, must have it....now!'   
  
"Not now, we stay, watch and take it later, yes precioussss?"  
  
"We take it later?"   
  
"Yes, yes, take it later, Smeagol will take it later! Yes, Smeagol will do that.....later."   
  
----  
  
"......ought to sleep a little. I will keep watch." Gollum focused on the two shadows again. Trying to be as close to one another as possible they leaned against the rock face.  
  
"I am really quite tired Sam but wake me in two hours, so you can also sleep." The voice sounded somewhat more firmly and more alive now.   
  
Gollums flat eyes adhered to the ring bearer and he sensed that he had escaped the cold stranglehold of the ring, he had won this battle, this time. Smeagol knew though, that this would change, the ring would become stronger and the will of its bearer was predestinated to become weaker.   
  
Gollums opportunity would come, but he mustn't wait too long. He had to get back his precious before the new bearer would become to weak and abandoned himself to the influence of the ring entirely.   
  
While the ringbearer bedded his head onto the lap of the other hobbit, Smeagol once again looked at the affectionate scene between the two hobbits and he had to think of Deagol.   
  
A longing expression emerged on his face, his right hand let go of the rock and wanted to catch hold of the hobbits, touch them. As Gollum became aware of what he did, he pulled back his hand again. One last moment he glanced at the hobbits and then he silently withdrew from their intimacy, pulling himself upwards.   
  
Once more he climbed up the overhang. As he reached the plain above, he glanced around in the darkness and after a short search he found a little natural hollow in between two rocks. Inside he coiled himself up to sleep.   
  
Gollum and Smeagol were quiet.   
  
THE END  
  
  
  
I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did when writing it. Be nice to Janazuul and gimme reviews... :) If you are into Slash you might wanne read my epic...lol  
  
Janazuul 


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